


Moments

by BridgeToTheSky



Category: Nevermore - Kelly Creagh
Genre: Angst, F/M, Goodness I love this series, Humor, It deserves more love, Love, Romance, VAREN - Freeform, yes finally uploading!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-17 12:06:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4665921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BridgeToTheSky/pseuds/BridgeToTheSky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moments in Isobel and Varen's relationship. </p><p>(set before Enshadowed! Varen's saved!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moments

The first night of sleep without Varen was _terrible_ (not that they, you know, ever _slept_ slept together, because of course not, Isobel wouldn’t just do that). Isobel could see -- borderline feel -- shadows crawling and forming outside of her line of vision, and sometimes, she could fool herself into believing it was Varen, reforming and returning to her, and other times she simply flinched, waiting for it to be something from the hellish world he had created for himself; the one she had tumbled into and still had nothing to show for it.

 

X

 

The first night knowing he was lost to her was terrible. And he brushed against a tree, the firmness of the bark keeping him alert, and closed his eyes. That they were lost to each other, equal in aloneness and tragedy, was what he couldn’t really find himself bearing. He thought of her, the image of her imprinted in his mind, ready to be summoned whenever he wanted --

 

The idea of that made Varen crack open his left eye; he had half expected her to appear, then. He had half- _hoped_ that his mind could conjure something else beside dreams that became nightmares, darkened ideas that became evil, and make something great appear. Make _Isobel_ appear.

 

X

 

His touch was so cold, and Isobel wanted more of it.

 

She could feel the metal loop in his lip (equally as cold, but in a different way that was, of course, more metallic), and the edges of his fingers as they slide across her face, caresses dancing with a soft force -- a tug -- of her to come close. Isobel gave a soft, inaudible sound as their bodies inched nearer still, and she never lost eye contact. Varen’s eyes stayed on hers, as well, dark and otherworldly. Like they contained worlds (and perhaps they did).

 

Whoa, Isobel thought, overwhelmed, as the last inches keeping them apart surrendered and disappeared and Varen’s lips met hers --

 

POP.

 

Isobel jumped, arms flailing. She pushed Varen away, leaning off the counter, eyes darting to find the source of the noise.

 

“Oh,” she said when she found the culprit. “Waffles.”

 

Varen looked to them as well, his expression blank.

 

In hindsight, maybe they shouldn’t try to have moments like this. In the kitchen. Of Isobel’s house. Without a plan. When Varen mentioned this, Isobel only pouted. “Yeah, but ...  it’s not good if it’s planned.”

 

X

 

There was no limit to how much Isobel couldn’t stand Varen’s love of answering questions with more questions.

 

“Are you done with the assignment yet?”

 

He’d look at her, and gesture to the pile of neatly-stacked papers. “Am I?”

 

(He wasn’t, but she assumed he was! Like, who stacks papers that nicely? _Undone_ papers? _God_ ).

 

“Do you like banana pudding?”

 

He had looked away from Gwen, who was downing a tuna fish sandwich with a fierceness Isobel wasn’t sure was normal for human beings to have, and stared at her, unblinking. “Do I?”

 

(Turns out he did, but he had let her hang there for a couple more seconds before taking said pudding off her hands and placing it on his tray).

 

Sometimes, he’d even do it to her when her questions were rhetorical or just really didn’t need his question-question philosophy attached to them.

 

“Why does winter have to be so stupid?”

 

Varen had looked up from his book. They had gone to the park that day, and Isobel had been sure they had caught a day in winter that was rather neutral in temperature and that she hadn’t needed a coat. Something Isobel really was feeling the bitch-slap of now. (But Varen had on only a black, light trench coat and a pair of even darker jeans. If that was even possible. Before Isobel began dating Varen, she hadn’t known black came in so many different _shades_.)

 

“Is it?” Varen said, a slight raise of his eyebrow to this question-question, as though he were a little confused.

 

And several other examples Isobel could think of at the tip of her tongue, the ones that just sat at the back of her head, waiting to be dug up again.

 

“Varen, have you even seen The Notebook?”

 

“Have I?”

 

(He had. He liked Rachel Addams. Go Figure.)

 

“Tomorrow’s gonna be the best day ever.”

 

“Is it?”

 

“Math sucks.”

 

“Ditto.”

 

There was only one thing that Isobel knew for sure wouldn’t meet her back in question marks.

 

“I love you,” Isobel whispered, brushing her nose lightly against his own.

 

“I love you, too,” he said, not the slightest hesitation.

 

X

 

The day he had picked her up for school, it had been a day born in the beginning of summer, and Isobel had approached the Varen’s car, and he had rolled the window down --

 

And there sat a short-haired Varen, eyes intense on her.

 

Isobel stopped short, almost tripping over herself. There was stretched out silence in which the only real sound at all was coming from the static of the car radio.

 

“What?” Isobel said finally, seconds had breached between them, and it was all she could muster. “What?”

 

The long mane of black she had know Varen for was gone, and what took its place was a hairstyle, just as dark, with bangs fanned to the side of his face, and somehow it made his eyes pop to an even greater degree.

 

It was … well, it was …

 

(Was sexy as hell too blunt?)

 

X

 

Isobel giggled into the phone as her fingers moved, creating the text:

 

**_Gwen, omg. Varen’s middle name is Kevin. Varen Kevin Nethers. What even? And pls don’t let him know I told you; he’d kill me._ **

****

X

There were some things in their relationship Varen knew he had to keep secret. Some things best left swayed away from in conversation, things forgotten. Details hazed like backdrops in mist, doors closed, locked away, the key swallowed up, abandoned somewhere within his own forbidden world.

 

His father’s ways were one.

 

Of course, because of that night (that horrible, disgusting night. The memory came back to Varen, and comes back, like a re-eruption of a disease; a cancer on happy thoughts), Isobel knew full well what his father was capable of, and what he did, but Varen did his best have her not focus on it, which, to him, was synonymous with amnesia.

 

He’d handle it. Eventually, he’d handle. It couldn’t be like this forever -- could it?

 

(Isobel full well understood why, some days, Varen was overtly affectionate; hand-holding to a whole new level, swift, but firm kisses, even hugging. She didn’t understand at first. But she did soon enough, and it pissed her off that she couldn’t … she couldn’t do enough for him.)

 

X

 

Sometimes, Isobel would bring a timer with her in the car, and just … just see how long Varen could bear it --

 

_“Boy toy named Troy used to live in Detroit,_

_Big dope dealer money, he was getting some coins,_

_Was in shootouts with the law, but he live in a palace_

_Bought me Alexander Mcqueen, he was keeping me stylish --”_

 

Varen’s finger stabbed the off button, the car being sucked in a silence before Isobel exploded in a burst of giggles, sucking in tiny bits of breath.

 

“Trash,” Varen hissed.

 

“You -- you couldn’t make it one verse!” Isobel breathed out through laughter.

 

Forty seconds in. Varen really couldn’t handle anything mainstream, but then again, neither could Isobel; that song really was trash.

 

X

 

Isobel couldn’t decide on any pet names for Varen; Gwen called him the Dark Lord (suiting), even her father had a name for him: The Boy.

 

But she couldn’t come up with anything that would’ve been just as annoying as it would be endearing. And, in all honesty, it was starting to get on her nerves.

 

X

 

She was his little bubblegum drop. But only in his head.

 

X

 

“Honey?”

 

“Yeah, mom?”

 

“Have you and Varen … well, you know?”

 

“What, what are you  -- OH MY GOD, MOM, NO WHAT?”

 

“Well, I was just asking --”

 

“NO, YOU DON’T ASK STUFF LIKE THAT JUST, JUST -- OH MY GOD.”

 

X

 

When she told Varen about this altercation, he smirked and she was forced to hit him in the face with a biscuit

 


End file.
